Voldemort: the untold Truth
by Ezza the princess
Summary: Ever wonder why Tom Riddle became Voldemort? In this story you'll get to know Tom Riddle, journey with him through his childhood and Hogwarts, and unveil the dark secret which has made him what he is.
1. The beginning

**Voldermort – The untold Truth  
  
  
  
Chapter 1 – The beginning  
  
  
  
The tears streamed down her face as she looked at him in her arms. Lorna Riddle smiled looking at the great achievement she had made – she and Tom. Their life would be secure now and Tom will never know her secret.  
  
Oh, how she wanted to tell him all those years… Tell him that she was special, not like the rest of them, muggles. She was special because she developed a skill muggles only wished to have. But it seems that after all of those years the thought of losing it...  
  
She could not bear to find out that she would lose everything. The thought made her shudder.  
  
 _Life will be different now, she reassured her self. For a moment, she seemed dauntless but something inside her bothered her. __The truth will come out one day whether you like it or not… The voice said in her head.  
  
_**

  
Outside it looked rather gloomy, the mist fogged up the window and only colours of grey were still exposed. The light seemed dull –like. Lorna felt dismal as if the weather was sucking the bit of happiness she'd been trying to grasp.  
Tom was not home yet either, and outside it darkened by the hour.  
  
A hand touched her bosom; the soft innocent touch of the baby comforted her that the vexations left her mind. She looked tentatively at him. _What will happen if he is not like me? __Perhaps then Tom will never know… but if he has possessed my skills… She stopped. A cold shiver ran through her as she thought of the possible consequence from the result of her infant developing her magic skills; Tom might not approve. She knew he was an ordinary muggle, with a simple way of life, who did not like the sort of 'weirdness' around. Should it shock him that his son is a wizard, might cause great havoc, and upheaval. She was afraid to displease him, for he was the world to her, and getting him displeased would be horrific. __And if he was displeased...Those dark thoughts kept lurking in the shadows of her mind as she pondered over them. _

_The night was  young..._

  
Suddenly a knock sounded on the door of the little cottage. Lorna's heart began beating irrepressibly as the fear returned to her body. Her legs began to wobble slightly as she went to reach the door handle – maybe of weakness. Three more steps, two more steps, one more step and she would reach it...  
  
The knocking returned. Lorna's fore head was sweaty as she reached the handle. 

With a shaking grip, she opened it.  
  
  


*

_The lark has sung...  
  
His voice was soothing and loving. The touch of his lips on hers was comforting that she did not want to let that warmness escape her. As she looked at him, her worries subsided and her strength returned, more profoundly this time.  
  
"I missed you," a tear formed in his eye- a tear of joy.  
  
"Yes Tom, I know you have," She embraced him. "But you are back at last. I do not know how I lasted without you for eight months but the thought of your love was always with me," she whispered.  
  
"Yes, my dear, always," He looked into her eyes. "You've been crying my dear," Tom said and the smile vanished from his face as lines of worry formed around his eyes.  
  
"It has been too long, Tom," Lorna's voice was barely a whisper. "I never had the chance to tell you…" But her words were interrupted by the sudden outburst of crying.  
  
"Lorna?" Tom looked at her with curiosity and bewilderment. He pushed her gently aside as he stepped forward towards the crying baby. At the sight of him, he froze. "This baby…" but he did not finish.  
  
"Is ours," Lorna said quietly._

  
  
"What?" His voice sounded enraged. "How can… how can it be?"  
  
"It's been a long time Tom," Lorna looked surprised at the question. "You've been away for eight months… and I never had the chance to tell you," She added quickly.  
  
"You were pregnant all that time and I never knew about it?" The rage was forming in his face now.  
  
"Please," Lorna said stepping forward a bit, "I couldn't tell you… I did not know where you were. You went to Europe in search of work, moving all the time that I… I never knew."  
  
Tom looked relaxed for a brief moment, his eyes moving about the living room searching about around when his eyes came to a stop at the sight of a black-leathered book lying on the table.

* _Her flesh was stung..  
  
___

  
  
"What's this?" He eyed Lorna before taking the book in his hands. He opened it and saw an album of pictures in black and white of students; they were not normal students; they held brooms in their hands and wore black looking robes. "What is this?" He looked closer at the picture and saw the students blinking and smiling constantly and moving about.  
  
Lorna did not have time to answer, for it all became evident to him.  
  
"'Hogwarts School of Magic'", he read. There was silence except the baby's small whimpering noises. Slowly he turned back to Lorna who stood there shacking. His face was reddening by the minute. Slowly, struggling with the words, he said, "You are a…witch!"  
  
Lorna started to cry. She was terrified of this; She was terrified of his expression and how he would react and he seemed like he would not take it well, and he didn't.  
  
"I can't believe this," Tom said stunned. He could not bear to look her in the face; he was ashamed. He felt as if he has done a sin and that he has finally played with the devil. My own wife, a witch… he kept repeating that thought as coldness and rage took over his body.  
  
"I couldn't… tell you," Lorna's crying became more intense that she could hardly breathe. This is the end, she thought.  
  
"Why in Hell couldn't you? You were too ashamed?" He said with disgust.  
  
"I…I didn't know… how you'll react," She managed to say. "I wanted…to tell… you but I was waiting... for the right…time." She started coughing.  
  
"The RIGHT time?" He almost screamed with rage. He looked at the baby, horrified. "You thought I would never know, but this thing, it's not a human," tears were forming in his eyes. "Its something worst than Hell and you…" he looked at her now. "You are a DEVIL!" After he said those words, he burst into a derisive laughter.  
  


* _And yet the night stayed young..._

  
Lorna collapsed to the floor crying beyond control.  
  
"I can't believe I married a witch," he shook his head disbelievingly. "I will not raise that _thing," he pointed at the baby who started crying again. "I am leaving," He walked in rage towards the door.  
  
"But… but you can't leave," Lorna said holding on to his legs miserably clutching him, but he shook her off.  
  
"I want NOTHING to do with you!" He said shacking but his face looked horrible. "Goodbye," he said as he burst outside. It started to rain down hard but he still stood there outside the door, unable to move.  
  
"Please…please don't leave me!" She crawled her way towards him barely reaching him. "I cannot raise him alone," her voice sounded desperate.  
  
"Don't you…touch me," he bellowed and his voice shook for a moment.  Now he looked bedraggled as the rain never ceased. "You… have made this happen," the tears formed in his eyes. "I will not be apart of that. Goodbye," and with that last word he left leaving Lorna sprawled in the pouring rain crying._


	2. The coldest shadow

**Voldermort- the untold truth **

Chapter 2 – the coldest shadow 

_"You are a DEVIL"_ was what had echoed in her mind. No love, no pity, but cruelty and evilness were what now lingered in the air. There was no ignoring it.

It was hours later when she realized it was over. Alone, and miserable, the woman- once a great witch admired and reverenced, was now no more. Nothing mattered anymore; the lights were disappearing also, together with the hope and happiness she always wished to have.

As Lorna gazed down to the neonate so innocent in her arms, she dreaded of what might happen to him. Would this little infant grow into a boy? Will he survive the harsh future, which lurks in the coldest shadow awaiting him?

Suddenly Lorna's thoughts were interrupted by a violent cough repeated by a few more. Her chest seemed to weaken with the sudden abrupt coughs. 

The frightening noise awakened the peaceful baby, who burst crying. Lorna quickly laid him down gently, and moved away. 

The coughing did not cease. Her body weakened by the moment, her temperature rose and sweat poured down her face, making her shack, making her unsteady. Sitting down beside the baby who was propped up on the table beside her, looking into those eyes of innocence, a tear cast down her cheek. 

"Oh my, those eyes (cough) look just like your father's…" Lorna said, a small tinge colouring her pale face as she remembered of the once adorned man she foolishly fell to her knees for. 

"Just like your father… (cough, cough) I shall (cough, cough, cough) name you, Tom Riddle, and Marvolo after the grandfather you never knew..." she said and gently leaned down and planted a small kiss on his soft pale forehead. 

The coughing was worsening. Taking a wand in her hand, she waved it in the air and cried out, "Nam (cough) _os_!" 

The baby stopped crying. Instead, he starred right through those eyes that unblinkingly starred back, unmoving. All that was left was the reminder of her love for him- the symbol of his name T.M.R forever adhered to his chest…


	3. The odd one out

**Voldermort- the untold Truth**

Chapter 3- the odd one out

A boy held his hands to his face trying desperately to obscure himself from the shadows above him. A group of boys encircled him, and stood there jeering at him, laughing at him, and mocking him. He could only wait; wait for the worst to pass, or for some miracle. 

The eight year old black-haired boy sat down crouching on a set of steps of the orphanage's backdoor.

The grass was long and prickly, the trees looked almost lifeless, and the sun, the hot blub of light was fiery, blinding him, as he tried to obscure both the heat and the boys, not succeeding very well.

Another boy, a chubby, strong looking one (perhaps a leader) grabbed him by his knuckle and pulled him forcefully on his legs. The black-haired boy's hands still obscured his face.

"You don't belong here! Go back to where you came from, you little twat," the chubby one said scurvily. The rest called in a chorus one after the other, 'yes!'

He pushed him back down again, and the boy did not react. 

"You have a father, so go back to him, we don't want you here understand? We are parentless," he said pointing at himself mainly, the others nodded their heads in agreement, "you have a father, you loser, so go back to him!"

The boys around him cried 'yes!' again.

"He doesn't want me," the boy uttered a silent reply.

"What was that, you git, what did you say?" the chubby one said as if he was mocking, as if the boy on the ground was nothing but a little mouse.

"I said, he doesn't want me," and the boy's face suddenly appeared as the hands slowly slid of his face like from a windscreen. 

"'He doesn't want me,'" the chubby boy mocked, and the other boys laughed again. "Well we don't want you either!" and suddenly he began kicking the boy sitting on the floor, who didn't budge, or fight back. Only the pain was present in his face as he waited, while the other boy tortured him. 

And so this violence continued for a while, the black-haired boy quietly waiting, not uttering a cry of pain, while the chubby one, with a smug look on his face continued to kick him, all around him, boys cheering and clapping. But the boy was used to it by now, it wasn't the first time he been kicked by the chubby one, or any other boy, except now he had enough.

All of a sudden, the chubby boy who was just about to give the black-haired one another blow, found his leg covered in a green bubbly substance, slowly melting and spreading upwards. The boy let out a shrill scream, as he realized his leg was slowly disappearing and because all of a sudden an agonizing pain came over him. Forgetting the black-haired boy, who was mildly bruised and shacking, he began to totter all the while screaming with pain. Realizing he couldn't walk, he fell miserably to the ground with a loud 'thump' screaming and crying. And then from the distance, a woman in grey came scampering over, pushing the tall rows of grass aside.

"What's going on here, what has happened?" She said in an angry, almost panicky voice as she searched through the boys. No one answered; there was silence except for the chubby boy's crying. 

"What is this..." she didn't finish as she bent over the chubby boy and starred horrified at his melting leg. There was red flesh and bone there. 

"Acid..." she whispered. Gently she lifted him without much struggle, for she was a big woman herself, full of strength and energy, and had lifted heavier things before. 

"In you come, its time for sleep, "she called sharply as she carried the suffering boy in her arms as quickly as possible. 

Quietly the others followed, avoiding the little boy who was watching them as they walked; the little boy who watched and smiled...


	4. The Hogwarts letter

**Voldermort- the untold truth**

Chapter 4 – The Hogwarts letter

Tom Riddle, an eleven year old smiled, as he remembered what happened to him when he was eight. The bruises given to him from the chubby boy – Eliot Montgomery, have disappeared a long time ago, the pain only returning to him in his nightmares. 

But there was something stronger than pain that haunted him so often. It was rage that burned at his heart, at his veins; a kind of fiery rage, like that sun he remembered so long ago which never stopped burning, and blinding him. Yes, rage that burned him like a volcano's magna when he thought of his father.  

At only the age of eight, did he find out his father was alive somewhere. It was an accident that he found out, of course. The woman of the house – the orphanage more likely- had given him a set of chores to be done before the evening that Friday, 3 years ago and while he was at it (cleaning the floor with an old straw broom), he heard her speak on the phone. It was known to him (for he found out) that Mrs Greple was a lover of gossip, chatting to her friends for most of the day, about the latest 'exciting neighbour news' as she called it. And while he was swiping of dust so close to her office door, he heard her say, 

_"Oh really, the Riddle man? And where could he have found all that money," she snorted and paused. "Ah his father died...I see; the inheritance passed to him...and the old git was rich...yes. Maybe now he'll take his son back." She paused again for a moment as a squeaky voice sounded from the end of the phone. "Ye know, Gretel, I am talking about his son, Tom Riddle," another pause." "Yes that's the twat's name..." and that has told him enough. _

_So his father had abandoned him here, Tom thought constantly, __and now he was rich and bloody selfish. Again, the rage had succumbed to him. Why not leave him to bloody die in the street, than put him in this black hole they called 'orphanage', where no one cares anyway? But he did not miss his father, and was rather proud that he was here – away from him. If his father did not want him, Tom did not want him either, no more than he wanted to be here._

It was a fine day, the autumn clouds covered the sky and looked like rough painted stains someone drew on a piece of white paper. And Tom, sweaty and greasy, was washing the wooden boards beneath him with a worn out mop. The other boys were doing their own little chores; Daniel Reedbuck was polishing the furniture, Billy Elliot was cleaning up the cabinets, Rupert Brown was cleaning up the dishes, and many more were helping out. 

The orphanage was a little two –storey wooden house on the corner of an alley way – where the poorer families lived. And although some had not had electricity or heat, like Mrs. Greple's orphanage, they were content. _Well most of them were, Tom reminded himself, __because they all had families, unlike the bastards in the orphanage, or the parentless children. But none of them had a father who was still alive and kicking, far away, who did not take his son back. Some had parents coming back a few years later and taking their children away, those boys who would stare back at him and draw out their tongue in stupidity, who teased him with made-up clown faces. But Tom didn't care; he'd just smile at them and waved – __one less boy to tease him, he'd say often._

"Tom Riddle!" A voice wakened his daydreaming. Suddenly he realized he was lying on the floor, and his head was perched on the wet mop. Quickly he stood up again.

"Day dreaming again, Riddle boy, ye should've finished cleaning the dining floo' an 'our ago," Mrs.Greple drawled. Today she wore a flowery dress of white and red that looked so tight on her, Tom could see it splintering. 

He did not answer. 

"Eh, boy, ye know day dreaming ain't allowed. Go back to work, if ye know what's good for ye." She said, crossing her arms and looking displeased. 

Tom bent on his knees and started scrubbing the floor again.

"Never understood ye, one bit," she said glaring over him as he worked. "Ye've always being strange, 'aven't ye, Riddle boy, ever since they brought ye here. And all these accidents don't stop do they, eh? Me knows tis you who does them, Riddle boy, you strange lad, you are. Me always wanderin' why you cause all these accidents, boy, care to tell me yerself?" Her voice sounded sharp and curious. 

Tom continued to clean and did not look up to her. He wasn't allowed. 

"'ey, boy," she said and shoved him with her leg. "Come on, ye git, say something already, can't wait all day." After a few more shoves in the back, he finally said,

"I don't know Missus."

"Then who knows?" she said sharply. She almost reminded him of Eliot Montgomery, only worse.

"I am sorry, Missus, but I don't know."

"Ye don't know alright," she spat. 

Suddenly a knock sounded on the entrance hall. Tom sighed a relief while Mrs Montgomery made a 'tsk' sound and left to open the door, meanwhile her heavy pounding steps vibrating the floor beneath him.

"Yes," she said annoyingly after she opened the door sharply and glared at the shadow there.

"This arrived a few minutes ago, Mrs Greple," this was the voice of the gardener -Bill Gamble- who Tom saw sometimes around the alley way. In his hand he held an envelop of some kind. 

Tom listened.

"Oh right, so ye think it's nice to browse through my letter box?" 

"Sorry Missus but it just flew past when I walked by, no intention of brow..." He tried to say.

"Good bye," she interrupted, and shut the door on his face. As she walked towards Tom, her faces looked concentrated into the unopened envelop. It was creamy-brown in colour, Tom managed to glimpse, and had a green-coloured ink. 

Mrs.Greple paused shortly. "_'Mr. Tom Riddle – the boy from the orphanage who's cleaning the floo''", her face went white. "Now who'd be writing to__ ye?" she muttered and quickly turned over the envelop. A stamp of Red melted candle was glued there and the letter H was crafted on it. Slowly, she opened it, and a suspicious look crossed her face._

"_'Dear Mr. Riddle,'" she read out loud while she paced around the room. "__'We are pleased to inform you that you have a place at __Hogwarts__School__ of Witchcraft and Wizardry.  Please find enclosed a list of all the necessary books and equipment. Term begins on 1 September. We await your owl by no later than 31 July._

_Yours Sincerely,_

_Headmaster, Armando Dippet'"._

Mrs.Greple finished. For a moment there was silence. Then she slowly came back again until she faced Tom Riddle who was perched frozen with his knees bent downwards, the mop dripping with water from his hands.

"So, ye've been accepted at a school for Witches and Wizards," She said rather coldly as if she was envious for a moment.

Tom slowly looked up at her face which showed quite a few reactions at once. 

"Ye'll be gone for a whole 'ear, no doubt," she pondered over her thoughts. A grin appeared, but her eyes were emotionless. "A 'ear is a long time, no doubt."

Tom's heart began to race. _If she let him go for a whole year to some wizard school, life might not be so bad. At least he won't have to come across her piggy face or the face of Eliot and his shadows. This might be good, he thought._

"A 'ear without strange accidents, and strange Riddle boy," she said to herself. 

No more was discussed on that topic that day.

For awhile Tom Riddle was anxious. He did not know Mrs. Greple's decision, but he hoped that it will be positive. For did she not try to get rid of him one way or another? This would just give her that opportunity and she will have a year without 'accidents' as she called it. 

Even Tom didn't know at times why strange things happened around him. But he knew that they happened when he felt furious or displeased with someone. But no more did he try to control his moods, than stop eating all together. He rather enjoyed the 'invisible' revenge they got when they displeased, or hurt him. It made him feel quite powerful.

It was already nearing July the 28th, and still Tom Riddle did not know Mrs. Greple's answer. He was beginning to wander if his life was going to be doomed.  After cleaning the floor once more, and tiding away the dust, it was beginning to set outside.

"Boys, dinner on the table, chop, chop," Called out the screechy voice Mrs. Greple.

When everyone was sited at their usual spot along the long square-like table, and waited in anticipation for the whistle that they can start eating, they were quite disappointed when Mrs. Greple started speaking.

"We should have a toast tonight," she said coldly. Her eyes were scanning through the rows of boys. "A toast to the weird Riddle boy, for he is leaving soon."

Some boys cheered for the fact the Tom will leave soon; they all hated him. "But he will be back at the end of the year," she said rather disappointedly as if wishing he'll disappear for ever. "Let's toast for the peace we'll have once he's gone!"

Clanking of forks and knifes sounded around the room. Mrs. Greple drank her glass's contents – a red liquidly drink.

Later, before Tom went to sleep, Eliot Montgomery barely walking, struggled to keep up to him before he gave up and said, "Hey Riddle!"

Some boys who were already dressed for bed, popped out of their rooms. 

"Yes Montgomery?" Said Tom quietly.

"Where you going?" Eliot called; an evil smile appeared on his face suddenly. "Did someone find you a home at last, you homeless twat?"

"I am going somewhere better!" Called Tom back, and on his face a smile spreading also; a smile of winning.

"Oh yeh, and where would that be, to the grave yard?" Some boys laughed at this remark.

"To Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry," smiled Tom. 

And god he was glad for that.


	5. The Mysterious Stranger

**Voldemort- the untold Truth**

Chapter 5 – The Mysterious Stranger

Now that Mrs Greple had accepted the decision of Tom attending Hogwarts School, there lay another problem – and a big one at that. _How was he to get there? Where would he buy his supplies, and how, for he had no money to even think of buying something. _

The 30th of July was a day none unusual; the chores were forced upon him right from dawn, the time was dragging like never before, while the hunger and the questions buzzed around him. And Mrs Greple wasn't any ease on him either, for she was in a strictest mood that morning, never leaving him from her suspicious sight. 

"Ye aren't concentration, Riddle boy, there's a speck of dirt right there," she said often. Tom's patience was wearing low, and he almost dared to scream at her. Alas, he'd managed to use his anger to scrub the floor harder. 

The day dragged on and only when it reached noon was there a knock on the door of the orphanage. 

With a 'humph' from Mrs Greple who was enjoying watching Tom struggling to make the floor spotless with not much success,  made her way to the door, always making that wooden floor vibrate beneath her. 

When she opened it, instead of saying 'yes', there was a moment of silence; even with his back to the door, Tom could imagine a look of shock on her face. Right he was; Mrs Greple's mouth was hanging open, her eyes bulged as she stared at the mysterious, odd looking stranger. 

After a moment more silence, the stranger spoke. 

"I'm so_rry to distu__rb you, Ma'am, but I have come to comply an impo__rtant e__rrand," he said accenting the 'r' in a funny way, as if he rather enjoyed the letter's sound. _

Mrs Greple finally found her tongue.

"E...errand?" 

"It is mo_re of a business one I am 'f__raid. You see, I believe a boy in you__r o__rphanage __received a lette__r f__rom Hogwa__rts School of Magic __recently, and I am he__re to accompany him to his jou__rney."_

"Riddle boy..." Mrs Greple whispered as if she suddenly remembered there was a boy named 'Tom Riddle'. 

"Fo_rgive me fo__r co__rrecting you, Ma'am, but I believe the boy's name is Tom __Riddle, is it not?" The man said with a bit of harshness in his voice. _

"Y...yes, 'course." Mrs Greple stuttered momentarily.

"Well, may I attend to him?" The man said impatiently now as he looked at Mrs Greple's pale face.

After looking him up and down with suspicion and fear, Mrs Greple let him in to wait in the corridor while she fetched Tom Riddle. After a moment, he appeared.

The strictness left the man immediately as the boy appeared before him, and a smile stretched on his face, showing rather nasty yellow teeth.

"Well hello son, may I int_roduce myself," the odd looking man took of his hat and bowed. "I am the headmaste__r's assistant, A__rmando Botallo."_

Riddle took a look at him. _The man was odd alright, he thought. He wore multicoloured robes of purple, blue and burgundy red, covered in patterned stars, a black velvety clock enshrouded his back, and gloves of leather covered his hands. He had a most funny moustache like whiskers held together, and different-coloured eyes- one of green and one of yellow, and  on his head, barely a patch of hair right in the middle of silver white. _

Tom held his wish to giggle.

"Sir, Tom Riddle's my name." 

"Yes I know. You've _read the lette__r, no doubt?" Botallo said amused._

"No sir, Missus read it," Tom said slowly afraid to get a blow in the head from Mrs Greple who stood right next to him nervously. 

"Tis no matter, lad, you got you_r belongings?" _

"Sorry sir, but this is all that I have," Tom said looking at himself and at the ragged clothes he wore. 

"All the bette_r then," Armando Botallo smiled warmly. "Ou__r jou__rney shall be eased. Come then, ou__r time is __running fast," he said and gestured to Tom to follow. But Tom stood frozen for a moment._

"But Sir, how will I buy my supplies, for I have no money and..." Tom said outwardly. 

Botallo smiled again. "Not to wo_rry, its all been settled now. Come on then,"_

"Right, Sir," said Tom and with a quickly glance at Mrs Greple who still looked rather taken aback, he followed.

He did not look back.


	6. The underworld

**Voldemort- The Untold Truth**

Chapter 6 – The underworld

"Been out much, lad in London's st_reets?" Asked Botallo kindly as he led the wide-eyed Tom through the Alley way. _

"I haven't been outside my orphanage, Sir," The boy said and in his tone a kind of anger twinkled. 

"Well now you'll get to see some of it," Armando Botallo smiled.

"Some of it, but why not all," the boy said disappointedly. 

Botallo laughed. "Fo_r we have not much time to spend, dea__r chap, you ought to get you__r things and send an owl to Dippett," a worried look appeared on the older wizard's brow. _

"Can't we get all the equipment in London," Tom asked, confused.

"The_re is a special place away from Muggles knowledge, whe__re we can buy all that you need fo__r you__r futu__re lea__rning time in Hogwa__rts."_

"And whom, sir, are you mentioning when you say 'away from Muggles' and why should this special place be distanced away?"

Armando Botallo stopped in his track and looked down with amusement at the 11 year old boy. "Oh you should conside_r a job at the Minist__ry, fo__r you'll be most useful. A Muggle is a pe__rson who has no magical skill what so eve__r, as fo__r you__r second question, well the wizarding wo__rld is something all togethe__r diffe__rent, vice ve__rsa to the Muggle wo__rld. This being the fact, the wiza__rds or witches wish to __remain a so-called 'sec__ret community' f__rom the Muggles, even though some Muggle-love__rs wiza__rds' folks prefe__rred the opposite. But what I am t__rying to imply he__re, dea__r lad, is that Muggles should not be bothe__red with things 'out of the ordina__ry' as they call it, fo__r they have enough p__roblems to deal with. The Minist__ry makes su__re thei__r wish is made by keeping ou__r little community hidden."_

"So the wizards and witches are like a 'secret community', but here in London?" Tom blinked.

"Oh right you are, son, right you are." 

***

After promising to show Tom a bit of London before attending to their Hogwarts business it was time to buy Tom's necessities. 

At first Tom couldn't believe it. Out of an ordinary city, lay hidden a place they called 'the Leaky Cauldron.' Before they entered it, Botallo told him that Muggles never noticed it, ("And a good choice at that!" he'd laughed.) and so there was no real worry that Muggles will know much of the wizarding get-togethers there. 

It was a tinny, dingy looking pub that could certainly be mistaken for just a space in the wall, not very noticeable at all, for it did not attract the slightest attention from the busy streets of Muggles. After saying hello to some odd looking strangers, Botallo led the boy through the pub to a brick wall. 

"There is no exit," Tom said suddenly as he touched the bare wall with his pale hand. "Shouldn't we go back Sir?"

"No Son, this is the way to Diagon alley, now step back please." The older man said with a bit of a shove to make the boy move backwards a step. 

Before he knew what was happening, Tom marvelled at the extraordinary sight of Diagon alley and before he managed to ask some questions of how they got there after remembering he saw a brick wall before his very eyes, Armando Botallo led him through. 

It was a sight such that Tom had never seen before. People in tall pointy brim hats, and dark sweeping clocks were roaming about, shopping and chatting with others who looked not much different. Some of them were carrying a weird lot of equipment and creatures in their hands; a girl with curly dark hair carried with her a caged Owl, and a small boy about 16 with a strange-coloured lizard (or was it a goanna) and what looked like a Cauldron. There were not only young people about but old as well. One woman, perhaps at the old age of 70 with an arched back was standing outside a shop brewing something in her Cauldron which she begged for him to try, the steam of purple bubbly substance fumed out of it as he quickly passed.

After walking in silence for a while, they finally stopped before a pale looking building which towered over the other shops making Tom's neck stretch upwards to the top of it. It looked like a building held by magic, _for surely, he thought __it was going to fall soon! _

"This, Tom, is G_ringots Bank, whe__re all the wiza__rding money is kept and whe__re Goblins and othe__r such creatures work." Armando pointed out._

"Goblins..." Tom couldn't believe his ears.

"They a_re the cleve__rest of c__reatu__res these lots, Tom, and a__re a nasty lot at that," and his lips pursed for a moment. "Now you wait he__re, while I exchange this cheque," he said and at the same time took out a paper note from his multicoloured robes, "to wiza__rding money." _

After nodding, Tom took a lean against a wall in the corner of the alley way leading to the bank.

No sooner had he waited, did Armando come back with a warm cheerful smile on his lips as he paced quickly over with his quick, tiny feet, in his hand a brown bulgy bag.

"Now he_re," he stopped to breathe. "Is some money fo__r you, boy, to buy you__r necessities he__re at Diagon alley; without it you a__re not able to pu__rchase you__r supplies." With a quick glance at the confused and excited Tom, the wizard opened the bag and fished out a few different coins in the process._

"This," he said pointing at a silver coin in his hand "is a Sickle, while this," he showed another smaller coin bronze in colour, "is a Knut. But the most impo_rtant of this lot is the gold one he__re, the Galleon, which is wo__rth more than these two togethe__r."_

Tom eyed the coins curiously and traced them with his finger. 

"So, this little beauty of gold called "Galleon" is wo_rth 17 Silve__r Sickles. A  Sickle is also wo__rth 29 Knuts. All togethe__r..."_

"Galleon would equal 17 Sickles and 493 Knuts," Tom finished with a grin on his face.

That amused look appeared on Armando's face again. "That's _right, you cleve__r lad, co__rrect me but did I say you ought to wo__rk in the Minist__ry?"_

Tom nodded.

"Fo_rgive me, but that won't do. G__ringots's whe__re you want to go." _

**

Before long, Tom had purchased his Hogwarts uniform, bought the necessary books needed from Flourish and Blotts, at times drawing back in surprise at a dancing book in the window, then off to the Apothecary where the smell of weird, sickening ingredients stung his nose, making him unable to concentrate on the potion ingredients he had to get, leaving with two more places to attend to- Ollivanders: _Makers of Fine wands since 382 BC- and the Magical Menagerie, Tom most wished to see._

"382 BC..." Tom whistled in admiration, "is a long time for a business."

Botallo laughed. "Oh yes, dea_r lad, Ollivande__rs have been successful even befo__re the time of the G__reat Fou__r Founde__rs of Hogwa__rts Wizard School, so long they've been standing, that its time to pu__rchase you__r wand."_

When they entered the shop, a small bell sounded inside it like a welcoming ring even though not a sole was present. After waiting for a long while, did a young man with dark grey hair appear, thick glasses hung on his nose as he stared down at the boy looking up at him from his ladder.

"Ollivander is my name, young sir," said the man whose eyes looked right into him without a blink. There was a kind of curious look about him, as if he was judging the boy rather closely. "And may I ask what's yours?" he asked and titled his head forward to take a better look.

Tom Riddle stepped back a bit. "Tom Riddle Sir," he tired to sound confident but somehow not very. Something spooked him about this man; it's as if he was reading his mind, as if he was x raying him top to bottom. A shiver ran through him.

After a moment longer Armando Botallo cleared his throat.

"We need a wand, M_r Ollivande__r, if you please," Botallo said with an uncomfortable note in his tone._

"Yes of course," Olivander eyed Botallo momentarily before he climbed off the ladder. 

After a few minutes he came back with a few boxes in his hands. The first wand of "9/12" inches, rosewood, in Tom's hand made the papers on the desk flutter about like birds. The next, 11" Mahogany wand, in Tom's hand, broke a bit of glass from the window. A third one 12/14" Unicorn hair wand, in Tom's hand, made the other boxes carrying their contents hit Ollivanders in the head. 

And so this unsuccessful seeking for a wand continued for the best of 20 minutes, until Oillivanders disappeared to the back of the room quite frustrated. When he returned, a red rash appeared on his pale young face. In his hand he held a dark looking box which shook as he brought it to the desk in front of the Tom and Botallo. 

After eyeing it with a concerned look he said slowly, "I believe I have no choice, Mr Riddle. If this wand does not suit you, I believe nothing else will."

"But M_r Ollivande__r," Botallo chortled, "__surely the__re must be a wand that will!"  _

"I am not quite sure for certain, Mr Botallo, for you have witnessed yourself this afternoon that no wand that hither touched this young boy's hand had suited him. So we must hope that this wand, a rare 11" holly phoenix feather tipped one, will solve the problem, although I am 'fraid this one is stubborn." 

The wand was handed over to Tom. It glistened in his hand as he touched it, making him feel warmness of some kind come all over him. With a quick wave, butterflies blossomed of it, and fluttered around the room.  

"It's settled then," Mr Ollivanders sighed a deep relived sigh. "This is your wand, Tom Riddle; it has chosen you for its bearer, so take good care of it for it is a rare one indeed." 

**

After the business with purchasing a wand was settled and the visit to the Magical Menagerie was made (Tom having purchased a tawny owl) it was time for a quick rest.

"Now since you've attended to all of you_r necessities, I must info__rm the Headmaste__r that you'__re a__rriving by Express to Hogwarts next month."_

"How will you do that, Sir, for it is the 30th of July and surely the reply should have been made," Tom pointed out.

"Not to wo_rry, not to wo__rry, dea__r lad, I shall ask to bo__rrow an owl to send a quick message th__rough a f__riend of mine, and it should be __received in a few good hou__rs, no doubt."_

Quickly Armando Botallo drew out a piece of yellow parchment folded many times in his robes, and a quill he held in his pocket and wrote a quick message. 

"Be right back," he promised as he quickly paced back into the Magical Menagerie shop. And as he promised, he came back merrier than never before. "It is done, it is set, the message is sent and you'll be off to Hogwa_rts soon. A month still left to go."_

"A month alright..." Tom said rather grubbily. 

"Patience lad, you've yet to miss you_r Mrs Greple," laughed Botallo._

_Not a chance, Tom thought. __Not in the world..._

**


	7. huff, huff, puffing and many riddles

**Voldemort- the Untold Truth**

Chapter 7 – huff, huff, puffing and many riddles

On the dawn of 1st of September, tension seemed to rise in the little two-storey orphanage. For one, Tom was nervous, as he made up his bed, the 'invisible' butterflies fluttered in his stomach making him quite frustrated. Other boys, or was it his imagination, seemed to behave rather oddly, for usually there were the old jokes of Mrs Greple in the mornings, but today , the air seemed to be filled with heavy silence.

Mrs Greple who was pacing up and down the boys dormitories, held her hands nervously at times, as if to stop them shacking. Tom wandered if she was dreading to meet upon the face of Armando Botallo, for he noticed, the left eye of her plumy face twitched often. 

Tom smiled to himself at the thought of Mrs Greple scrambling as far as possible from Armando Botallo's open arms; he'd rather stay away from the scene if he could help it.

"Get back to Work ye Riddle boy, just 'cause ye're leaving, don't mean that ye can relax, now can it?" Mrs Greple said as she shoved him a broom. There was a cold look about her.

"Yes Missus," Tom grumbled. _And how you'd like this broom shoved up your nose? _

"Well on with it now," she waved with her hand, giving him one of her 'narrow-eyed' looks. 

Tom nodded and said nothing. 

When it reached 10 in the morning, a knock sounded on the door of the orphanage. Knowing who it will be, instead of opening it, Mrs Greple ignored it. But the knocking continued relentlessly. 

After few more knocks were heard, Mrs Greple finally sent a boy named Greg Sullivan to open it. Tom who was tiding his bed upstairs heard a man's steps entering the house and smiled after recognizing them. Quickly as not to be noticed by the other boys, he snicked out of the dormitory and crept down a few steps of the wooden stair way to listen closely. Thank God Mrs Greple was downstairs also.

"Good day, M_rs G__reple. Busy as usual, I see?" Botallo said warmly. _

"Y...yes we are at this time, busy as bees me guess," came the quick, nervous reply. 

A titter was heard.

"Well as you know, today is the day Tom _Riddle must jou__rney on to his fi__rst day to Hogwa__rts School. So I believe Tom is __ready to go," Armando said and cleared his throat uncomfortably._

"Right," came the meek response from Mrs Greple. _It seemed she rather shouldn't have been reminded, Tom thought. "Riddle boy, grab ye gears and rags and come down here at once!"_

"I am coming, Missus," Tom giggled as he jumped down 2 steps at a time, making large 'thumps' after doing so.

**

"Now lad, I've gotten you_r ticket," Said Armando Botallo hurriedly as both he and Tom rushed through the alley, "and the exp__ress will be in King's C__ross Station, platfo__rm 9 and ¾," he read._

"But 9 and ¾ does not sound like a real station to me," Tom questioned in confusion. 

"Oh t_rust me, lad, it is, just let us get to King's C__ross first befo__re we wo__rry how to find it."_

If Tom thought getting to King's Cross was easy, he was quite mistaken. Before long, they've gotten lost in London's enriched streets. Busy traffic and hurried Muggles made Botallo quite dizzy time to time, that he'd to stop. 

"But I am su_re it was he__re somewhe__re," The frustrated Botallo cried as he looked at his faded out drawn map in his short-fingered hands. _

"Perhaps we ought to look that way again," Tom often suggested get frustrated himself.

"No, no, it shan't do, might have to ask a Muggle's help," said the older wizard quite nervously. "Have not been talking much with Muggles these many years; my communication might p_rove __rusty."_

After a moment, the wizard approached a lady sitting on a bench near by with a classic book in her hand.

"C_ross?" He asked. But instead of answering him the way he hoped, she shot him an angry glance, took her newspaper and left._

"What did I say w_rong?"_

"Perhaps, you should mention the whole name of the place, Sir, such as 'King's Cross Station,' and maybe just excuse yourself before hand," Tom was holding back a muffled giggle.

"_Right, that did sound __rude no doubt," the older wizard pondered. "No hu__rt to t__ry again," he winked at Tom._

Another victim was found. An older man, perhaps a few more years older then Armando who Tom guessed to be around his 60's, was walking his white poodle along at his leisure. 

"Excuse the King's C_ross Station, Si__r," Botallo panted after rushing along to follow the older man who started jogging suddenly._

"And why should I?"

"T_rying to find station, to t__ravel; ve__ry impo__rtant day, Si__r," Botallo said rather taken aback at the sharpness of this older man._

"It is just a usual day to me, and I don't think the Station should be excused just because I do not wish to travel today!" The older man said crossly, and the poodle started to bark.

"I beg you_r pa__rdon, Si__r, but it is we who wish to get the__re, with not much time on ou__r hands."_

"Oh right, well pass the Docklands building in the corner, turn then left across the road, then turn right across that post office, and go down those stairs – shall lead you to the underground train station and that's where you'll find this King's Cross."

 "Oh many thanks," smiled Botallo in relief. "But I must ask, fo_r I've not been a__round he__re much, is King's C__ross station named this way, because once Kings C__rossed he__re?"_

**

"3 minutes left, oh no," panicked Armando Botallo who looked so weary he might have collapsed to the floor soon. After having reached King's Cross Station, and Platform nine, Botallo eyed the ticket in his hand.

"How am I to reach 9 and ¾ if there is only platform 9 or 10?" asked Tom confused.

"Dippett, the Headmaste_r that is, mentioned something about having to walk th__rough a barrie__r between platfo__rms 9 and 10, I believe," The older wizard scratched his head frustratingly. "Damn I wish I practised coming he__re befo__re actually a__rriving, fo__r this Station is quite new and the so-called 'ba__rrie__r' was made not long ago."_

With out waiting for further unreliable information, Tom made his way to the middle of the station, where a brick wall stood separating platforms 9 and 10. After standing on the corner of the wall to the left and then to the right, Tom leaned back, the cage with the tawny owl in his right hand, his books, wand, potions, and uniform in a large bag with his left hand. And before he knew it, he was falling...

**

"That was sma_rt move al__right, my lad," Botallo repeated often after the incident where Tom felt his body give backwards when the brick wall sucked him through the barrier. _

Tom was on the train, sitting by the window on his right, where Armando Botallo stood outside it chatting to him. The Scarlet train was packed with students of all ages taking up sits in the few carriages, leaving hardly any room for later-comers. Luckily, Tom found a spare one. 

"It is a long t_rip to Hogwa__rts; I believe it shall be evening when you a__rrive."_

"And how will you get back to Hogwarts, Sir," Tom asked.

"I have my t_ranspo__rtation," The wizard cleared his throat. Then he leaned slightly forward and whispered in the boy's ear, "It is mo__re of a ca__rpet that I t__ravel on."_

Tom pierced his ears; _has he heard wrong? "A magic carpet, Sir?"_

"That's _right; I've gotten it as a p__resent from Pe__rsia; a ve__ry expensive Pe__rsian ca__rpet, but it is not what it seems sometimes. I've had a good old chat with it fo__r mo__re than one occasion, fo__r it is bloody stubbo__rn, it is, and sometimes has its own mind, and its own wishes, you know what I mean?" Botallo said most seriously._

Tom has never heard such a funny joke. But then again, all of this seemed like a joke.

"And the_re are p__rope__r meals up the__re in Hogwa__rts, lad, it'll get some meat back into you al__right," the wizard smiled._

_Some proper food and magic, does sound like heaven, Tom thought to himself._

Smoke bellowed from the engine. A puffing sound was heard and then a horn and a whistle sounded as well.

"Its time!" Armando said excitedly. "Good luck, _dear lad, and I will see you late__r!"_

Tom certainly hoped so...


	8. Sortings, a feast and enchantments

**Voldemort- the untold Truth**

Chapter 8 - Sorting, a feast and enchantments. 

The train ride to Hogwarts was nevertheless exhausting, but Tom was grateful when it finally neared to a stop. Outside, the weather changed from a quite sunny day, to later in the evening when it was bleak and breezy. 

The station welcomed the students with bright-light lanterns coming from near by horse-drawn carriages. Some older students were already standing outside, holding open the doors of the train's carriages and beckoning the younger students to get a move-on. And Tom and a group of first-years were instructed to wait while the others followed different lot of older students.

"Wait here, first years," a lanky boy of short black hair repeated. "Professor Botallo should arrive soon."

_Botallo, Tom thought as he recognized the name. __Armando Botallo – the headmaster's assistant._

"So_rry, was a bit p__reoccupied," called the voice of Armando Botallo from a distance, "If you follow me this way, to the ca__rriages, please!" His voice rang out from the noise of many hurtled students murmuring and talking as they passed hither and tither on Tom's left and right.  _

After directing the students to get into groups of 6, Tom having found a group of boys who never stopped babbling in excitement, slowly the groups began to fill each black horse-driven carriage.

Before Tom managed to get a sit on the carriage pointed over to his group, Botallo noticed him and waved.

"Hey the_re Tom, nice to know you su__rvived the jou__rney," Armando Botallo stepped aside to let the traffic of students go on._

Tom smiled. "'T was tiring Sir but quite enthralling as well." 

That merry laugh was heard again. "Good, good, well off you go, now," he said. "Steady now," he called to the black shiny beauty of a horse in front of the carriage whose hoofs shuffled excitedly. 

A moment later, they were off. 

**

"So what house you think _you'll be sorted into?" asked a red-head boy with lots of freckles who sat opposite Tom in the carriage. Next to that him sat another boy with curly brown hair, and next to him another who every so often blew out a green bubble of what smelled like mint gum. _

"I am not sure; Are we to be sorted into houses?" Tom asked surprised.

"Don't you know that," the second boy with brown curly hair asked. When Tom shook his head, the boy continued, "Well there's Gryffindor, Hufflepuff..."

"_Slytherin," the red-head boy said admirably. _

"And Ravenclaw," said another boy with blonde curly hair and glasses. "This is the house I'd like to be in."

"Ravenclaw," said the red-head boy, disgusted. "They are too smart for their own good, I reckon. My cousin was sorted into Ravenclaw and now he works in Gringots Bank"

"So what's so wrong with that," asked the boy with the glasses who looked a tad annoyed.

"Well when he's got no more to do, he gets _really bored, and tries to make up challenges. One of them he showed me was inventing a system to detect a robber before they even robbed something!"_

"What about Hufflepuff," asked Tom in interest.

"Oh that one's for cowards, I'll say, those too scared to face a challenge. They make loyal friends, in there, but this is all they'll do," Chortled the red-head boy.

"Which one would you go into, then," Asked Tom who was a bit confused about the names of the houses and mad about how unfair it was that the other boys knew more about this world.

"Slytherin or Gryffindor," the red-head boy smiled, "but I'd like to be in Slytherin, 'cause the professor there, I was told, has good reputation for teaching and he's the Slytherin house's professor. Teaches the best potion class ever, was told."

_So all those heavy potions ingredients I'd gotten would be for good use, Tom thought. _

"My name's Alex Whitmore, by the way," Said the freckly red-head boy proudly, "and yours?"

"Tom Riddle," Tom said proudly back. _This place was going to be different; no more bullies._

"And I am Scott Malray," said the one with blonde curly hair and glasses.

"And I am Elliot Blackmoore," the brown curly head boy shook Tom's hand.

"I am Mark Sullivan," another quite boy suddenly spoke. He had brown hair also but short with a fringe.

The last one did not answer for he had fallen asleep. 

"He probably woke up quiet early this morning for he sleeps like a baby," laughed Alex. The others followed in with the laughter until the carriage began to rocket with them and woke up the sleeping boy. 

"Wha's funny?" He said quite groggily. 

"Go back to sleep, you git," Alex wiped tears from his eyes.

And he did.

**

When the carriages have come to an abrupt stop, and the boys looked out the window, Tom's jaw dropped. In front of him stood a most enchanted castle he had never seen. On the south of it, lay enshrouded a brilliant velvety lake, glistening in the darkness. 

It must have reached the clouds, this castle, for it was monstrously high, and the wooden oak double doors looked very much enormous; and what were more fascinating were the statues of winged boars standing on the pillars that surrounded the entrance; for a moment he could not glance away from them. 

As they all got off the carriages and were led by Armando Botallo up ahead, Tom took a moment to glance up to the golden- lit windows – so many of them that he lost count. _They must be already in there waiting he thought excitedly. _

While waiting for the wooden doors to open, Tom saw that surrounding the castle was vast extended grounds that stretched far and beyond to a large forest far back. _A school leading to the woods... he thought inquisitively, but his heart throbbed with excitement as the doors opened wide and they began to enter..._

**

In the Entrance hall stood on left and right a set of armour as a set of decoration, and the stone floor gleamed below their feet as they entered. Further ahead was a marbled staircase leading to first floor while two other staircases, narrower and smaller led to other paths.

"These," Botallo pointed when a boy asked about those narrow staircases, "lead to the kitchens and the dungeons."

On the left were two more wooden doors leading to the Great Hall and on the right was a small antechamber. 

"Now get into a line please f_rom sho__rtest to tallest, and wait patiently awhile" Armando Botallo directed the first years. With a push, he opened the brown heavy wooden doors and led them to a small anti chamber and when the first years all got in he said quietly, "Inside the othe__r wooden doo__rs is the G__reat hall whe__re you'll be so__rted into you__r houses. The__re is G__ryffindo__r, Hufflepuff, __Ravenclaw and Slythe__rn. These houses will se__rve as you__r home houses fo__r the __rest of the yea__r – whe__re you will gain points or lose points depending on how well you behave and if you b__reak any __rules.  A so__rting hat will look into you__r mind and so__rt you whe__re you'll most likely be and that will be you__r house today, tomo__rrow and fo__r the __rest of you__r yea__rs he__re in Hogwa__rts. The __rest of the school will be waiting fo__r you to be so__rted and then you may enjoy ou__r wonderful beginning-of-te__rm banquet."_

_A sorting hat...? Tom thought and gulped._

"Come along now, they a_re __ready fo__r you." And with that, Armando Botallo led them back to the entrance hall, and through those enormous wooden doors, where behind a drone of voices frightened him. _

If Tom thought he was dreaming, possibly it was right now. His eyes shot straight to the ceiling which seemed like it was enchanted or made to look like a brilliant sky outside while candles hung in mid air, adding a kind of warmness to the hall. Filling the hall were 4 long tables that stretched up to almost the other end of it except allowing a space of the main one, each table presenting its own house with a flag But the one Tom liked the best was the Snake in green that belonged to Slytherin. Gryffindor table was on the far right; Hufflpuff was on the second to the right, then Ravenclaw a bit to the left and Slytherin in the corner.

As Tom turned his head left and right, he observed that all the tables were covered with golden plates and goblets that looked so polished they shined. Along the tables the students sat of all ages watching in unison at the first-years passing to the end of the hall close to the stage where the teachers sat, their eyes following with interest as they whispered and pointed at the new arrivals.

When Tom and the other first- years were ordered to stop, Tom noticed that another professor stood up from her desk bringing along a four-legged stool which she placed silently on the stage a meter away from the end of the High table. He noticed quickly, that she was not young, but looked close to 65 or so. She seemed the sort that liked to dress plumply for her robes were quite outstanding, even if her figure was not; she had quite musclier appearance but her character seemed like a warm and pleasing type, making Tom feel like a needing hug.  

A moment later an old battered hat with high pointed top was placed upon it. _Is that the sorting hat? Tom thought briefly after seeing what looked like an ordinary wizard hat.__ Remember, here in wizards' world, nothing is quite ordinary..._

Suddenly the brim of the hat opened revealing a gap which extended to look like a mouth and a moment later it sang:

_I am a hat not much in use_

_But once a year I wake,_

_To sort you all to a certain house_

_And wizards of you make._

_As a special hat, I have been made_

_To find your certain skill;_

_I'll read your mind and see through you,_

_Your secrets I'll reveal._

_I might put you in Gryffindor,_

_Where bravest ones are true;_

_In challenges they'll rightly win,_

_And be those champions, anew._

_I might put you in Ravenclaw,_

_Where those of a cleverest mind,_

_Solve mysteries of any time,_

_And ones of any kind._

_Or maybe Hufflepuff will suit you best_

_Where friendship's mighty loyal;_

_You'll find your way in tougher times,_

_Together you will toil._

_Or what of house like Slytherin,_

_Where those ambitions rise?_

_They'll stand above competitors,_

_And get their rightful prize!_

_I am a Hogwarts ancient hat,_

_A thousand years or more._

_And soon I'll be back in my place_

_To think of poems galore._

_So hither put me on your head,_

_To find where you will be,_

_Then find your place in your new house_

_And don't forget to thank me!_

The hall flooded with applause then; everyone was cheering and laughing admirably while the hat bowed times and times to each of the tables; even the teachers laughed.

_So Gryffindor would be for bravery, while Hufflepuff for loyalty, Ravenclaw for cleverness, and Slytherin...prize winning, thought Tom as he repeated the words of the hat over and over in his head. _

When Tom came back to reality, he noticed Botallo had taken his sit in the teacher's table while the lady with the silver robes held out a parchment. 

"I will call names and I'd like each of you to come up the stairs and take a sit at this chair while I place the hat over your head," she said looking at the first-years for a brief moment, then her eyes traced down the list and back up again, "Blackmoore, Elliot!" The boy with brown curly hair who sat opposite Tom in the carriage came forward and the hat was put on his head. 

"HUFFLEPUFF!" The hat called so loudly that Elliot had to unblock his ears when he stepped off the stage. Cheering sounded from the Hufflepuff table as he joined them.

"Brief, Slaiten!" Another boy with blonde straight hair came forward, his cheeks were rosier and his hands shook as he took his place on the chair.

"RAVENCLAW!" 

"Bright, Aliana!" A girl with blonde silky hair and a flower in her head came forward confidently.

"GRYFFINDOR!"

Tom was getting very nervous by now. Was the Hat going to place him in Hufflepuff – where Alex told him sooks were made, or was it just his dislike to the house itself, not knowing much but enough to dislike it?

"Gerbelle, Becky!" A girl with glasses and black straight hair plated on her side came slowly forward, her face pale as snow. 

"HUFFLEPUFF!" Again the cheering sounded from the Hufflepuff; they had 2 new joiners now.

 "Malfoy, Lucius!" This boy had blonde short hair that kind of hung a bit to his side and pale grey eyes. No sooner had the boy taken a sit, the hat screamed, "SLYTHERIN!" The boy left grinning.

"Malroy, Scott!" The curly blonde boy with glasses who wished to be in Ravenclaw received his wish. The hat called "RAVENCLAW"!

"Riddle, Tom!" The lady called and spotted him as he advanced forward. His hair was in a bit of disarray after he had constantly slid his fingers through it out of nervousness, and his hands were also shacking. Not only was he anxious, but he felt his legs behaving like Jell- O, buckling sightly each time he took his step. _Take it easy, just step at a time, don't trip, don't look back, just straight ahead, it's just a bloody dirty hat, thoughts breezed his mind. Finally after what seemed like ages, did he find his sit at the 4-legged stool and waited. His face was looking out to the hall where many pale, rosy faces glared back at him. __So many people, so many hats, so many pale faces...let this be over already._

Then darkness followed as the Hat was place over his head and covered his eyes. If Tom thought the hat was talking loudly, he was wrong. His ears rung with the voice but to him it sounded quite and calm, even if the echo was heard more loudly.

"Tom Riddle, is it now? Quite interesting indeed and curious too; you have many gifts and many talents, so what house should suit you now...smart mind I see alright, bravery is strong, loyalty is evident, ambition...yes that too. And a skill for languages as well- a clever quality indeed. The type to be ahead, to win, to be ambitious, in need of power...there is a house. The only house perhaps that'll suit you fine no doubt..."

_Only one house? But what had happened to the rest and why's this bloody hat taking so long?_

A silence followed then. It seemed everything and everyone stopped breathing as they watched him and the murmuring hat, and then before they were prepared...

"SLYTHERIN!" 

_It is over... breathed out Tom as he smiled and stepped of the stage and walked across the hall to the cheering house that awaited him, the house with the picture of a serpent Tom like most, the house Alex was proudly talking about._

His Slytherin house. 

"Well done in entering the best house in Hogwarts," said an older boy who claimed to be in 6th year and a prefect. He had jet black hair and brown, sharp eyes that he tended to use to glare at Tom being a new-comer, his mouth formed into a wicked smile. _Even more welcoming...Thought Tom as he smiled weakly and turned his head back to the people being sorted. _

Danial Stroter was placed in Gryffindor, Mark Sullivan (another boy from the carriage) was placed as Gryffindor, Susanna White (a pretty red-head girl) was also placed in Gryffindor, and Alex Whitmore came over smiling, to join Slytherin.

When Alex came to sit next to Tom, he held his shoulders high and sang, "I knew I'll be in Slytherin."

Tom half-smiled and then turned to the 6th year by the name of John.

"So the sorting takes place every year here," he asked.

"Oh yes, though I have started getting sick of it, from my second year; the hat sings such stupid songs you'd want to laugh right at it," he drawled.

"It sings a song every year? I wonder who has made it do such thing and sort the students to houses..."

"Well there were founders once," replied  another student, a girl with black locks of hair that bounced quite jubilantly on her face as she spoke, " Salazar Slytherin, Helga Hufflepuff, another founder named Rowena Ravenclaw..."

"And an idiot by the name of Godric Gryffindor who made that stupid hat sing songs," smirked John.

"So why the hat," asked Alex joining in to the conversation. John rolled his eyes for a moment.

"Silly, why else would Godric Gryffindor make up a stupid hat, so it can sort the students into their right house while the founders no longer exist."

Alex turned red momentarily. 

"May I say something," a cold voice said; the voice of Lucius Malfoy. Some people turned to him now. "The story of the hat was of course the '_hero's' idea – Godric, who was a Muggle lover and wanted any wizard or witch, pure blood or not, to learn in Hogwarts. Of course our Salazar rejected this idea for he was known to hate Muggle-borns and Mud-bloods. So he and Godric argued certainly while Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff weren't sure what to say. In the end Salazar left and made his revenge – a chamber."_

"A chamber, what kind of chamber?" Tom sounded very interested all of a sudden.

Lucius smiled now as he was happy that Tom had asked that question. 

"It is a secret chamber where he hoped one day will be found by his heir and unleash a basilisk and kill the ones that weren't worthy of studying magic."

_Kill the ones that weren't worthy of studying magic...Tom pondered over that and shivered slightly. Before he had a chance to ask some more questions of the chamber, he was suddenly interrupted by a wizard clearing his throat. _

He was standing behind the table, around the centre of it, with teachers on his left and teachers on his right. As Tom watched him smiling and looking from table to table, he noted a similarity in him. His hair was also silver white but seemed to centre in the middle, leaving all else bold, had a longer moustache which curled toward the ends

and very colourful robes – of blue and yellow, and a funny snoozing hat with stars on it.

"Welcome to our first years and welcome to you all," said Armando Dippet, the headmaster.

The hall burst into applause again, but not in such Great Spirit; for everyone was thinking of food.

"Just a few words, before I'll open the banquet," he said warmly but seriously. "The Forbidden Forest is out of bounds to all students unless by a permission of teacher, but must never travel alone, for there are many horrors living there best not to face. And our young caretaker Mr Filtch had asked me to remind you that no magic should be used outside your classrooms."

Tom saw a young man, filthy bits of hair covering his unshaved face, siting in a chair at the corner left of the High table frozen like a statue. 

"Now that that is out of the way, Nitwit! Blubber! Oddment! Tweak!" And then he sat back down again and the noise of forks clanking sounded around the room. 

For a moment Tom was perplexed. _Did the man just speak in another language?_

"Eat Tom," said Alex. "Oh this wafting smell kills me that I've got to have some of that roast."

When Tom looked down towards the table he couldn't believe his eyes. _Now I am really dreaming...he thought and his mouth hung open as he gaped. There were dishes upon dishes of roasted beef, chicken, lamb chops and pork chops, sausages of different kinds, bacon, steak, gravy, fries, roast potatoes, carrots, ketchup, and Yorkshire puddings. He didn't wait a moment longer; he grabbed everything within his sight and ate._

**

It was time to go to sleep. After everyone had finished, feeling satisfied with the beautiful banquet, the Headmaster Armando Dippet ordered the prefects to take the first years to their dormitories. 

After the Slytherin house filed out of the hall, Tom noticed that the other houses were going up the stairs. 

"Bad luck to them I say," teased a Slytherin student. "They have to cross all those moving stairs that change each day."

"Aren't we going up as well," asked Tom, a bit disappointed that he couldn't experience the moving stairs just yet.

"Our dormitory is down that spiralling narrow stair way where the dungeons are," drawled John as he was so used to it all. "Up, the stairs move around a lot and some even trip you if you're not careful and you can get stuck there for long if no one comes down or up to help you," he simpered. 

"How many stairs are there," asked Alex.

"If I remember correctly..."John scratched his head.

"A hundred and forty-two," cut in Malfoy.

"How do_ you know that?" John eyed him with an amused look._

"_Hogwarts – a History; if you'll read it__ you will know," Malfoy looked pleased with himself._

"Boring old book; have to study it in History but I never pay attention......" shuddered John. "That reminds me, classes start tomorrow."

He led them down the stairs where they passed a dark, chilled corridor with only a few torches to brighten it. The walls were covered with dark ancient pictures where figures moved about. 

Tom blinked as he passed after seeing one portrait of a man with charcoal-black long hair and green eyes staring at him. A while later they'd reached a blank stone wall.

"This is the entrance," John pointed out. "There should have been a portrait hole to enter through but guess we don't get one. Now what we have to do is say the password of the house and it will open and let us through."

"My, you do have security here," whispered Tom.

"You bet, and that is what I like here," replied John proudly. "Its not only here but also outside the Hogwarts walls no one knows of where we are, Muggles especially."

"That's right," another girl joined in who was shorter than Tom in height but bony. "To them it's just a ruin that says 'DANGER-KEEP OUT.'"

Tom mused over this. "So they don't even have a clue that a magic school exists."

"_Parseltongue," John uttered in a kind of a hiss._

"What?" Tom asked.

"The _password," Lucius answered with a smile. The stony wall divided in the centre like a crack until a large gap was revealed inside it, a green light emitting from it._

**

They entered into a chamber whose walls were pale and kind of silvery, where greenish torch lights flickered. A set of couches were positioned in a semi circle from the left wall to the right, while pictures filled the walls, many of them showing the same portrait of a man. 

After the prefect showed them their dormitories, Tom came back to look at the pictures. Lucius Malfoy was looking at them also with a sense of admiration in his look.

"Who's that?" Asked Tom curiously as he glanced at a huge portrait of the same man he saw in the corridor, with the charcoal black hair and the green robes. 

"Salazar our Slytherin founder," came the quick response from John who was ordering the first years to go to their beds. "I think you ought to go and rest now, early classes tomorrow."

Tom tore his eyes of the large portrait and turned away to the dormitories, and a sense of unease came over him as he felt eyes burrowing into his back. 

In his four-poster bed with its green and silver curtains, Tom lay on his back, his hands supporting his head as he looked up to the window on his right where the pallid moon reflected upon the clouds. 

Slowly he closed his eyes and smiled as he made himself cosier inside the comfortably soft bed. Before long, he fell asleep.


End file.
